Whipped
by Arlene
Summary: Patrol gets interrupted


Whipped

Disclaimer: These characters belong to DC. Not mine. Never will be. No money is being made from this piece of fiction.

Whipped

By Arlene

Patrol had been quiet. It had been one of those blessedly low-crime nights. A couple muggings here and a purse-snatching there had pretty much been the sum of the evening, which had gradually turned to early morning. Three dark figures converged on the rooftop of Wayne Towers and waited, more bored than tired from their nocturnal activities.

They watched and waited.

They waited and watched.

Finally, the low hum of a ringing cell phone emitted from the shortest of the trio, startling the vigilantes from their surveillance. The two older men looked sharply down at the boy.

"Uh, 'scuse me." Robin took out the offending object from a hidden pocket and answered. "Yeah?" Batman and Nightwing turned back to viewing their city.

"Oh, hey Steph. You want what? Now? But I'm on patrol. With him. Yeah, him too, so I can't--"

The cell phone was now emitting a high-pitched squealing sound, causing Robin to pull it slightly away from his ear. He attempted to interrupt.

"But Steph--" More squealing. "I thought cravings only happened during pregnancy. You had the baby already and--" More squealing. Robin lowered his voice. "Well, of course I care about you. But I--" Squeal. "You know I want to be with you, but you know how he is . . . um, ask him? You know I can't, he won't just--" Loud squealing. "Okay, okay, I'll ask." He lowered the phone and turned toward the darker of the two figures.

"Uh, Boss? Steph needs, uh, something, and she can't exactly take off by herself at the moment, and, uh, since it's so quiet tonight, could I, y'know . . . ?"

Nightwing hid his smirk behind a gloved hand, trying to hold back a laugh. He could only choke out one word. "Whipped!"

"Am not!" The boy quickly covered the mouthpiece and said in a lower tone, "I am not whipped!"

Batman was considering the request. While he didn't approve of the Spoiler having contact with Robin during patrol (or ever, for that matter) it was done. Okay, slow night, patrol's almost over. If anything arises, he and Nightwing could take care of it. He was thinking of calling it an early night (morning) anyway. Let the boy go now and he'll be grateful. Grateful = happy = more dedication. Fine. Batman gave a short nod.

Robin's worried countenance melted into a relieved smile. "Thanks." Back to the phone, "It's cool. So what flavor was it . . . ?" The rest of the conversation faded as Robin jumped off the roof. The other two didn't bother to check if he landed safely.

By now, Nightwing had removed his hand. "Heh. That boy is so whipped."

Batman's mouth quirked slightly. "Definitely."

Before the younger man could comment further on the matter, he was interrupted by his comlink. 

dit

Finally, thought Nightwing with a smile, some action. "Yeah Babs?" Batman had not reacted, indicating that Barbara had only contacted Nightwing. The older man looked on curiously.

"Dick," Babs opened sweetly, "you remember that bet we had going earlier? And how you lost? How you lost so very, very badly?" He could hear her smile through the link. He dropped his own smile and grimaced. "Uh, Babs, I'm on patrol right now. Can it wait?" Unlike Nightwing had done earlier with Robin, Batman didn't cover his smirk. "Whipped!" he mouthed, letting his partner see it. Nightwing stuck his tongue out at Batman and turned his back on him.

"Listen, Short Pants, I've been monitoring your positions for the last ten minutes. Nothing's going on right now."

"It's a patrol. This is called surveillance." 

"Nothing's going on right now. Nothing much happened earlier. For all I know, you boys could've been standing around comparing . . . batarangs!"

dit 

Babs had cut the line. Nightwing waited patiently. He knew exactly what she was doing and the longer, the better. Maybe she would forget why she'd called in the first place. He crossed his fingers.

She came back on-line a few minutes later, slightly breathless, laughter under control now. "In fact, Junior just took off and he ain't heading to no crime. It's an early night and you're coming here."

"But Babs," he whined, "now, like precisely right this minute? I mean, yeah, I'm gonna honor the bet, but I mean, c'mon, now?"

Babs' voice took on a dangerous tone. "Richard, if you don't get your cute little rear in gear right this moment . . ." She let the threat hang.

"Okay, okay, I'll ask him. Sheesh." Nightwing turned back to his mentor.

So embarrassed was he that he didn't notice how similar his and Robin's requests sounded. "Uh, Batman? Babs needs me to, uh, get something, and she can't exactly take off by herself at the moment, and, uh, since it's so quiet tonight, could I, y'know . . . ?" The unmasked portion of his face turned to a lovely shade of scarlet as he sputtered.

Quite honestly, Bruce was dying to know what the bet was and what Dick had to do. However, since he was The Batman, he kept his face and voice neutral. "Go." You are so whipped, he added mentally. It was an interesting exercise trying not to chuckle while keeping his face impassive. A challenge like this didn't arise often.

Nightwing gave a short nod to signal his thanks. Still talking to his tormentor, he dove off the rooftop.

The amusement quickly faded. Alone again, story of my life, he sighed to himself. He turned to head towards the Batmobile when a slight flash caught his eye. He whipped out his binoculars and looked down at the vicinity of the flash. Hm. Jewelry store. Catwoman in plain sight, swinging a necklace and she's . . . waving? At the Tower? No, not at the Tower, at him. He was slightly shocked at her gall.

Possibilities raced through his mind. 1) It's a trap. 2) She's short on cash. 3) She wants to play. Eliminate 1, she knows better. Eliminate 2, store is not known for high quality. Number 3? By this time, he could see her tapping her foot and looking at her wrist. She looked up at him impatiently. Time's a'wasting. Why not? Nothing better to do. Besides, it's probably not her necklace.

As he dove off the rooftop and prepared a jumpline, a thought struck him. I am not whipped!

End


End file.
